


The World Begins Anew

by jellidonut



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: AU where twewy2 was made, Gen, OCs are fun to hurt, Other, and by Fun i mean Suffer, and this is it, woohoo it's Fun Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellidonut/pseuds/jellidonut
Summary: Something was deeply wrong. Shibuya was buzzing with electric tension, and the scent of lilac hit him, surrounding him in an embrace that felt like a promise. "I am coming," it whispered, a voice carried in the wind. "I will make everything better." A hug was meant to be comforting.So why does he feel like he's choking?





	1. Chapter 1

The rain comes down hard, pin needles slamming down to Earth, beating against the glass of a café that is, for the most part, empty. He stands alone, a sillhoutte in the warm glow of the lights he has yet to turn off, staring out into the world. The streets around here are vacant, save the occasional person sprinting towards shelter, whether it is home or a temporary stay until the rain lightens. Some tried to run into his establishment, but he politely sent them away, explaining that he's closed until they eventually leave. There is no need to force them - they always get the message in the end.

But he waits. Waits for the only person he will let in, waits for them to come in whether they were invited or not. There is much to discuss, if their text meant anything, and he knew better than to think otherwise. Things were changing, he could tell that much just by looking around. They needed a gameplan, something to turn to when the world around them started bending in on itself. Something was coming, something that should never step foot in Shibuya, something hungry and impatient, with the desire to take whatever they pleased and the ambition to see it through. Something truly evil, as much as he felt the word grossly oversimplified this - this force of nature.

A storm was coming to Shibuya.

And they needed time.

Just as he finally switches the light off, the door to his café opens, and in stumbles the person he waited for. They don't joke or smirk as is customary of their character, just hurry towards him and lean heavily against the counter, expression of stone as they catch their breath. Without much thought, he turns to brew them a warm coffee, listening to the sound of the unending downpour outside and their breathing. A silence, taut and heavy, falls around them like a blanket, suffocating but familiar - perhaps even a comfort.

"She's finally coming for the kid, hm?"

They laugh, a bitter and humorless sound that he's used to hearing. "You give her too much credit. She couldn't care less about him."

"Ironic, since without him, she can't touch you."

He turns to face them, leaning his hands on the counter to support his weight. They seem tired, _exhausted,_ too absorbed in their thoughts to worry about the chill in their bones. Water drips onto the floor from them, and though it bothers him to some degree, he knows better than to dwell on that right now, when they're finally facing the music.

"Maybe. But she can ruin Shibuya. She'll destroy the barrier between the UG and the RG, and we've both seen what happens when she does."

He remembers another time, long before all this. A city turned on its head, razed to the ground until nothing remained. The city lost to the Noise. "Mm."

"I couldn't begin to guess why she's bent on this city. It doesn't suit her tastes."

"No," he hands them the hot cup of coffee, "but she hates you more. And you failed to get rid of it."

_"I didn't fail."_ Their voice raises, both human and not, more a frequency that echoes through his soul than real words. He's grown used to the fluctuations, used to their rage towards accusations. "I changed my mind. _That's_ why she's coming here, to spite me."

He grins. "Look at that. You _do_ know why she's coming."

They don't appreciate his joke.

"As much as it displeases me to say," their voice doesn't shake, even though he can feel their growing unease. "We need to find him. And we need to erase him."

Fury chokes him, cold and mocking, sending memories to his head and guilt to his heart. Erase him? He almost wants to snap, but looking at them, he restrains himself. They don't want to do this either - whether because they know what he means to him, or because they know they'll have to restore him eventually, he doesn't ask. His hand clenches into a fist, and they notice.

They don't say anything.

"You know there's another way-"

"A dying hope, more like. There's no way of knowing that'll work."

"We don't know if _this_ will work either. Hiding him might just end in a little more time to plan, _if we're lucky."_

"Isn't that what we need?" They're annoyed now, agitated at his reluctance.

He tries to think past the fog, tries to push away the memories and the care, tries to think of this objectively. They need more time. Erasing him would give them that, and they _would_ restore him in the end. It wasn't a subject of debate, they needed him just as much as she did if they wanted to stand a chance. If they kept him hidden, where no one could reach, they could strengthen their defenses, focus on repairing the barrier before facing her head-on. But how much time would that _really_ buy them? The Noise would be relentless, attacking Players and non-Players alike, moving freely between the RG and the UG and devouring everything in their path.

Would _they_ even be safe from the destruction?

And then he can't stop himself from seeing it through the eyes of the guardian he's become. He sees a young boy, a child, beaming brightly up at him, holding out a cheap bag of beans that he had dreaded brewing, but had anyway. He sees a teenager standing uncertain on his doorstep, on a day as rainy as this one, with tear stains on his cheeks and a container of pink dye in his hands. He wears a weak smile that tugs at his heart, and asks for help as though he expects to be pushed away. He sees his reflection from later that same evening, with a smile that isn't so weak anymore and new tears born of cheer. He sees him turn, and laugh, and hug him close as he thanks him like he's just given him a blanket after years of being cold.

He sees the boy he might as well have raised. No, he sees the boy _he raised._

"Trust me," he finds himself saying, even though he doesn't know where he's coming from. "You don't need to erase him. You need to get him _ready._ "

"And how, my dear friend, do you say we do that?"

The idea comes before he can stop it.

"We give him the truth."

The words taste sour on his tongue.


	2. Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to process when your head is bubbling over. Hotaru has always tried to stop others from seeing the damage.

**7 Days until Christmas**

He wakes up to the feeling of something pressing down on his chest.

It isn't painful, not enough to strike panic through him, but he does find some difficulty breathing properly. He opens his eyes to try and see who's there, and feels his heart leap into his throat at the sight of his old friend, though it settles down as he smiles up at them. They have their back turned to him, inspecting something they have in their hands in favor of acknowledging that he's woken up - which he's fairly certain they've noticed, given how hard it is to miss when they're sitting on him.

"I didn't take you for the breaking and entering type."

They incline their head just enough so that he can see their smirk, the one that is ever present on their face, but they have yet to meet his gaze. The sunlight poking in through the window illuminates them, reminds him of looking up and seeing the angel on the Christmas tree, and fills him with a sense of calm. They don't say anything, even when he huffs and tries to sit up. They do laugh at his meager attempt to free himself, though, so even if he failed, he still wears a smile. "I'm glad _you're_ comfortable."

_"Huh?"_

His eyes open again, and they are gone. He pushes himself up, feels the blanket slip off his legs and onto the floor, and takes a look around. Standing outside the door of his bedroom is Neku, who seems mildly confused by what Hotaru must've said in his sleep. Instead of acknowledging the burning in his cheeks, he leans down to collect the fallen blanket, rolling it into a ball and tossing it to the foot of the couch that served as his bed for the night. There's a (vaguely uncomfortable) silence that falls around them as they go about their business, Neku heading for the kitchen to start up a pot of coffee and Hotaru digging through his bags for his toothbrush and a change of clothes.

He doesn't take long in the bathroom; he doesn't want to waste anymore resources than he needs to, but he's guilty of indulging himself in a warm shower. Even with the knowledge that Neku wouldn't mind - in fact, he insisted he take one last night - he can't help but feel like a bother to the boy who let him stay the night. Once he's dressed, he pulls the phone out of his other pants and checks for messages. He has a few from the group chat that he elects to read later, and a text from Calypso that, upon taking a closer look, is nothing more but tired musings.

He doesn't know why he feels disappointed.

"Thank you for letting me sleep here," he says as he packs his clothes back into his suitcase. Behind him, he hears the other boy pause in pouring his coffee and feels eyes on the back of his head. He knows what's coming next, it comes every time he crashes on his couch, and the sentiment is appreciated, even after so many times of being extended. But he could never bear being a burden. They both know how this is going to end.

This time, Neku moves to be in his sight, sitting down in the chair he'd pulled over from the dining room table last night and extending a mug to him. He accepts it with a brief smile, and it tastes good, even if prepared the way Neku takes it, but he longs for the flavor of Hanekoma's coffee. He hasn't had it in a long time because of his own insistence of being treated like anyone else and having to pay as much for it. He hopes Hanekoma hasn't noticed that he's stopped buying - hell, he hopes he hasn't noticed the suitcase he hides in the storage room.

His thoughts are put to a stop when his friend taps his wrist, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. "You can stay, you know. I don't mind a roommate." There's a small smile on his face when he says it, a hope that today will be the day that he'll accept his offer. And just like every other time, he _does_ consider it. Considers filling the empty room next to Neku's, considers finding some sort of normal routine here, considers being able to sleep at night without having to hide from the cold. Considers being able to spend money on expensive coffee and not having to worry about his next meal.

But he can't. Just like every other time.

"I'll be okay," but both of them know there's no certainty in that. "I promise."

Neku's expression briefly turns to concern, but he's quick to hide it with a sigh and a nod. "Okay. But you're staying for breakfast."

That he can accept.

...

Hotaru has always liked Scramble Crossing, even with all its discordant noise.

It's a collection of lives, of people who are all so different but have all found something in common in a single moment: this crossing. They all walk to a destination the other can't imagine, with a varying sense of urgency in each person. They all cross the same road, all hear the same sounds and see the same things, but they each interpret them differently. He spots a businesswoman holding a coffee and a folder, walking with a sense of urgency, while beside her is a young teenager with a phone and a soda pop who doesn't seem particularly worried about hurrying. He sees a child and their parent, holding hands as the adult guides them across the road.

For just a moment, he can see into the windows of their lives. It is closed, and he can only hear muffled voices, but he is there, and he sees how they are. For a second, he knows them - but not. He knows what they share, what they don't mind others seeing, just as they can see what he wants them to. It's an interesting experience, knowing that everyone is complex in their own ways, that there are lives at the tips of his fingers he'll never truly understand. He smiles, thinking of all the people he sees, guessing at what waits ahead of them and what lies behind but never knowing for certainty.

He likes Scramble Crossing because it is the heart of Shibuya.

And like that, the moment is over, and he, too, is hurrying along down his own path. 

...

He's just finished storing his suitcase behind a couple boxes when Hanekoma opens the door. "Ah, here you are. I was wondering when you'd get here, kiddo." He offers a sheepish smile as he steps away from his lie, heart beating a mile a minute at the sudden intrusion. Hoping that he hadn't noticed what he was doing, he approaches him with a small laugh and makes a gesture insisted he take the lead. "Right, right. Come on, not like they're gonna serve themselves out there."

He wishes he could lock the door behind them.

...

About halfway through the day, when there's a lull in customers, they come in and take a seat at one of the tables in the back. He hardly notices it's them he's serving until they giggle. "You really know how to humble yourself, Hotaru."

He peeks up from his notepad and can't help but smile. He doesn't move to hug them like he wants to, knowing fully well that he is still on shift, even if there's no one else there. He does playfully push them, however, to which they respond with a smirk and a quick, "Is that how you treat paying customers? It's a miracle you still have a job."

"Yeah, whatever. With your attitude, it's a miracle no one's tried to beat you up yet," he teases, jotting down what Joshua usually gets before handing it off to Hanekoma, who waves briefly at them before going to work. He sits down across from them, a smile on his face that they glance at.

"You wound me," they joke, "if you truly think no one has tried."

"Oh, my mistake. It's a miracle no one's succeeded."

"You sound disappointed. Would you like to find me passed out in an alleyway?" They raise an eyebrow, smug smirk in place as they lean forward, as if to share a secret. "If that's what you're into, you just have to say the word."

_"Joshua!"_

They laugh, a sparkle in their eyes as they do, and he can't help but laugh too, warm and light as he tries not to lose himself too deep in the sound. He loves being able to make Joshua laugh - a _happy_ laugh, not one for the purpose of mocking, or one that is humorless and cynical. He thinks a smile looks beautiful on them, but he never says it. They'd just tease him more for it, and he'd rather not give them more ammunition.

(And it may be a bit confusing sometimes, but he likes to think he can tell when they're laughing _with_ him and not _at_ him. But teasing has always made Joshua happy, at least a little bit.)

(Has Joshua ever been really happy? He can only remember one time, Christmas two years ago, when they didn't stop themself from smiling, or when their happiness lasted longer than a few seconds. If he could help them be happy like that again, he'd do anything, even if it meant parading through Shibuya and announcing himself the king of fools.)

(He says none of this either.)

"One House Blend, J. What's got you two giggling?" Hanekoma sets down a mug of coffee that smells _amazing,_ and he can't help how his gaze follows it as Joshua takes a sip. He's quick to pry his stare, but it's already too late, because Hanekoma's watching him with curious eyes. Nervous, he passes it off with a smile before looking down at the table, picking at a loose thread on his apron and trying not to dwell on the feeling of eyes on him.

They lean back in their chair with a pleased sigh, setting down the mug and turning towards the older man (or so Hotaru thinks. All he really sees is the edge of the mug placed on the table.) "We've just learned some interesting things about ourselves, isn't that right, dear?"

Ignoring the burning on his cheeks, he hurriedly looks up to glare at them, trying very hard to look serious. (He doesn't think the small laughs that he can't hide help, though.) "Don't say that, he'll think you're being serious!"

"But I am being serious." They smirk, teasing, but he has long since stopped minding. They've always found enjoyment in poking fun at him, and they haven't gone too far this time. And if they did, they'd make up for it. Whenever they have, they've apologized in their own way, whether by giving him something he'd like or dragging him along on one of their elaborate, confusing tasks that Hotaru has come to know are important to them. They prefer doing things alone, so being allowed to help reassured him that they _did_ like him, that they wanted him at his side.

"Joshua-" but he stops himself, glancing down at the table again and coming to a loss of words. In front of him sits a second mug of coffee - no, hot chocolate, he corrects - freshly made. He doesn't remember Hanekoma putting down two mugs, nor does he remember him leaving and coming back. But how did it get here? He tilts his head to look up at him, but he just shrugs.

"Had one last bag in the back and thought you'd like it. Plus, it reminded me that I have to order more. You know how people like their cocoas near Christmas."

"It-It's a _week_ before Christmas, how is it gonna get here in time?"

Hanekoma winks before ruffling his hair, causing him to yelp before trying to fix it. "Hey, don't doubt my abilities. I'll have them here by tomorrow, no worries, little man." He furrows his eyebrows at that, absentmindedly taking a sip of the warm beverage and nearly melting at how _good_ it tastes. Across from him, Joshua seems to hide a smile, the corner of their lips tilting upwards for a brief window before it's gone.

"That," he breathes, taking a moment to appreciate the hot chocolate before continuing, "makes no sense. I think."

"Yeah, well, neither do a lot of things, kid. Don't worry about it and enjoy your cup. You've earned it."

It's only later, when he's deep in conversation with Josh, that he notices Hanekoma didn't ask for him to pay.

...

"When were you going to tell us?"

He freezes, gaze glued to the suitcase he's just pulled out from among the boxes, too nervous to dare turn around. It isn't like he has to, he already knows who's speaking, and he knows they have their arms crossed with that frown he knows means they're genuinely displeased. He didn't want them to know, he didn't want to tell either of them. Could he explain this away? Would Joshua believe him?

They take his silence as an answer. _"Were_ you going to tell us?" He has to swallow the lump in his throat, has to think of something to say, an excuse, an apology, _anything just please tell them something._ He didn't want them to know, but now they do, and they'll tell Hanekoma, and he'll get furious and do something Hotaru doesn't want him to.

"I-It's only temporary. I've almost got enough for a home." That's a lie.

"How long?"

He stops. He tries to still his shaking hands, slowly rising to his feet and turning to look at them. The instant eye contact jolts him, and he's quick to look at the floor, clean and sturdy. It's not going to give under him, not like it feels it already has. He should've waited to get his things, should've waited for Joshua to leave and Hanekoma to be busy. He should've, but he didn't, because the sun is about to set, and he needs to find somewhere safe to sleep tonight. "About three months."

He can hear them sigh, sees them approach from the edge of his view before a hand taps his chin and he instinctively looks back up at him. There is still irritation in their eyes, still an underlying shade of disappointment that makes his blood run cold, but they don't treat him like he's just broken something. It almost looks like their disappointed in his secrecy, not him as a whole, and it's jarring. Their touch is featherlight, hardly even there, but it's a comfort nonetheless. "Please, you can't tell Hanekoma, he knows where they live and he'll do something they don't deserve."

"Deserve?" Joshua's expression becomes momentarily dumbstruck, clearly shocked by his words. It isn't long before it twists into ire, and their grip on his chin tightens just the slightest bit. "You don't think they _deserve_ to be shown the error of their ways?" His tone is dangerous, even if he laughs out the words. "After _kicking you out_ , you don't think they should face the consequences?"

"They have children, Joshua."

"And until three months ago, _you were one of them_. Besides," they pull away from him and he wishes they hadn't, "you act as though he'll kill them."

He chases them, take a step closer as to keep them in the conversation, to keep them from leaving and telling Hanekoma what they know. "No, but I'm not dumb enough to think he'll leave them alone. He'll do _something_ , so please don't tell him they kicked me out."

Joshua doesn't like that. He can see it in the way they pause, in how they turn to face him again, hand twitching and eyebrows furrowed. They take a moment to think, to gather their thoughts and say something. When they do, they definitely don't look pleased. "What am I supposed to tell him? You're an orphan, you have nowhere else to go to just leave your home on your own." He pauses to laugh, humorless and angry. " _Well,_ you have him, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a roof over your head."

They start taking steps towards him, and suddenly Hotaru doesn't want to be close, starts walking backwards to keep away. "But you didn't come to him. You've been sleeping on the streets for three whole months, keeping this all a secret. You could've been killed and none of us would be the wiser. All because you don't want them to _pay?"_ They scoff, resting their hands in their pockets as they stop walking. He almost trips when they do, though he manages to catch himself before he hits the floor.

Silence falls around them, as they give him a chance to think. He lets their words wrap around his mind, sees images of being screamed at, feels the ghost of a tight hold on his arm as he's dragged to his room and pushed to the ground, told to pack his things and _go, get out of here, we don't want you here, **you are not our son, this is not your home.**_

They don't say anything about his tears.

"You really are a saint, aren't you?"

They hold him when they bring him to Hanekoma.

...

She has a clear view from the rooftop across the WildKat Café.

She can see the boy held by the Composer, can see his tears as they say something to the Producer. She can see how he gets angry, how he wants to react explosively, but he holds back, looks at the boy and gathers him into his arms. She sees the Composer observe for a moment before glancing out the door, and knows she needs to vanish before they spot her.

But before she leaves, she makes sure to pull out her phone and snap a picture of the boy and send it to Her Lady.

~~_"Target located. Awaiting instructions."_ ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the glowy boy!! Can you tell I love him?  
> I'm pretty excited to actually /know/ what's gonna happen in my story all throughout instead of ideas for a beginning and an end. It's a good feeling.  
> Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! I had some troubles with the name, and just ultimately decided on focusing on what Hotaru was doing. Might rename it if I ever think of something better.

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, prologues are fun.  
> But! This is my first TWEWY fanfic, and I have so many ideas that I can't wait to put into words. I hope you guys stick around until the end ^u^


End file.
